


When I Asked It I Meant It

by witchway



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Awkward Sex, But Face It Guys Sometimes Sex Is Awkward, Good Things Happen At The End I Swear, Happy Ending, M/M, Starker, Tony Stark Has A Big Dick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2020-12-09 13:24:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20995523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/witchway/pseuds/witchway
Summary: Then Tony’s whole face broke out in a relieved smile and Peter understood what the word ‘beautiful’ meant.“That’s it,” he said, and relief and joy were palatable in his voice.   “That’s what it’ssupposedto feel like.”





	1. Problems

**Author's Note:**

  * For [von_gelmini](https://archiveofourown.org/users/von_gelmini/gifts).

Tony’s pulse was hammering, his breath was catching, his skin was flushing and his adrenaline levels were clearly on the rise. He was clearly enjoying himself.

Peter opened up all his senses to take in the data. It wasn’t distracting enough as, say, using his spider senses to calculate how the walls would fall if in the building were to collapse, but reminding himself how MUCH Mr. Stark was enjoying this made it _slightly_ enjoyable.

Until it didn’t and he went back to tracking the direction the walls would fall in.

After that it was advanced calculus. Then after that (damn Mr. Stark was taking _forever_) he started mentally listing the names of all the muscles and tendons in his left hand.

**That** was helpful. Because his hands had been on Mr. Stark’s arms (as Mr. Stark rocked into him endlessly, _constantly_ pressing his bearded chin to Peter’s ear, _constantly_ asking questions. _Jesus Christ_ when would this be over??) and he needed to concentrate on how powerful those muscles and tendons were so he didn’t accidentally defenestrate the man.

“Are you ok baby?”

_I’d be better if you’d stop touching my face._

“Does that feel good?”

_It feels the same way it did the last 17 times you asked._

But now keeping his hands on Mr. Starks arm was a BAD idea, even with the mental list of muscles and tendons, because he just now realized that his arms moved as Mr. Stark’s body moved, and it occurred VERY SUDDENLY to Peter that ALL HE HAD TO DO was grip down on Tony’s biceps and STOP moving his own arms and this would all be over.

“Are you ok baby?”

_Honestly if you stroke my face one more time I’m biting off your fingers._

In fact he was just now realizing that instead of defenestrating the man he could just fling him to the OTHER side of the room if he wanted to, and when the enormity of how EASY that would be struck him he had to move his hands to the bed and clutch the bedcovers and start frantically listing off the name of each BONE as well as each muscle and tendon…

But THAT didn’t work. Because apparently, he had his eyes closed and his faced scrunched up and Mr. Stark noticed (dammit at least during that constant ear-whispering kept him from watching Peter’s FACE) and pulled out entirely and started stroking his face, and THEN – Oh Sweet Jesus – he was suddenly asking questions.

STUPID questions.

“Hey baby, baby, what’s wrong? Are you alright?” he was asking breathlessly, and while at any other time Peter would have very much enjoyed knowing that HE was the one making Mr. Stark breathless, but right now the questions were PISSING HIM OFF.

He had held completely still. He hadn’t panicked at all – Toomey once dropped and entire building on him and he had managed not to panic _then_, so panicking now was not even an issue (hardly.) And more importantly he hadn’t even clenched ANYTHING (important) because he was probably strong enough down there to break off this man’s absurdly huge dick (didn’t he even get points for that?)

At least having said absurdly huge dick _finally_ out of him was a HUGE relief, but now he was out of the frying pan in and into the fire, because Tony was STILL on top of him only NOW Tony was asking actual QUESTIONS (as oppose to that non-stop litany of repeated words that Peter considered entirely rhetorical) and, worse, was expecting answers.

Dammit, at least when Tony was fucking him Peter could get away with moaning as an answer.

But he tried. He was THE Spiderman, after all. If he had managed to survive an entire building collapsing on him then he could manage a conversation. 

So he TRIED to be a good Avenger and submit to YET ONE MORE of Mr. Stark’s sexual demands.

“Does it hurt?” Mr. Stark was saying, and, infuriatingly, demanding a reply.

“Hey, hey, look at me,” he was asking now but dammit, Peter was done with the stupid. Just like he had done underneath the tons of concrete, he kept his eyes CLOSED thankyouverymuch. 

Stubbornly he SCRUNCHED them closed. But he did speak.

“No…. no, you were right. It’s just like the skin on my face and my arms. Nothing can hurt it.”

“But does it feel good?”

Peter was GLAD his eyes were closed because otherwise he would have rolled them. Damn, he wasn’t GOOD at lying – who knew you had to lie so much to be an Avenger? 

But he WAS one now, so he had to rise to the occasion.

He took a deep breath, opened his mouth, and did his Avenger-best.

“It’s a lot.”

“In a good way, or a bad way?”

“Its……a lot.”

He sighed in disgust at himself – who knew he would be so BAD at sex (then again, why the hell did he have to be GOOD at it??? Mr. Stark had PROMISED he would do all the work and honestly this was all the older man’s fault.)

“Here, try this.”

And that was the moment Peter Parker came closest to defenestrating his erstwhile mentor and current lover (and soon-to-be-deadman) because when the man _turned them over and switched their positions_ Peter was pressed up against the man’s absurdly large cock which **_was still erect_** which made no sense because the man had been _going at it for hours!_

(Well, minutes really, but that was the longest Peter had EVER seen anyone go at it and because all his sexual experiences before now had [always clocked in at seconds] and really 5 minutes + just seemed excessive.) 

But then he was on top, and Tony was underneath, and he put off his decision to throw the man through the window because, at that exact moment, he realized he was _breathing_.

It was only now that he realized he hadn’t been before.

And so, as Tony urged him to sit up on his knees Peter willing complied suddenly far too distracted by Tony’s _lovely_ vaulted ceiling to remember his irritation at the man. He filled his lungs with delightful oxygen over and over again. It was bliss. It was ecstasy. 

Which is why he hardly noticed Tony scootching himself into position and teasing his opening with fingers, and then the tip of a cock. Deep, lifegiving breaths were far more distracting.

Tony took the deep breathing to be a sign of enjoyment and pressed in another inch of cock.

Peter looked down at him, blinking in surprise. He had been beyond disgusted with the man before, but now, dizzy with the joys of breathing air he absolutely couldn’t remember why. And also Tony was doing something lovely to his backside and he wanted more.

And then there was the man’s face – those whiskey eyes looking at him so fiercely it gave Peter goosebumps (or maybe that was the warm cock teasing him gently? It seemed so impossibly hot before, as if it were leaving burn marks on his insides, but now it seemed warm and sweet, the way Tony’s tongue felt the first time they kissed.) The man had that intense, piercing look that had ALWAYS given Peter butterflies, but now Tony was looking that way **_at him_**, which would have taken his breath away except that he was recently full of oxygen and good to go.

Why was Tony looking into his face so intensely again? It was hard to think because Tony’s cock was doing something _really_ exceptional. Whereas it had, just now, been intruding into his body a ridiculous amount (and for a _ridiculous_ amount of time) it was now doing something – Peter couldn’t even describe it – that was making every inch of his skin tingle and his cock jump to attention.

Tony grinned (oh, THAT’S why Tony had been looking at him, he was looking for some reaction) and for a moment Peter thought (as much as he could think) that the man was just as handsome at this close range as he had been from a distance.

Then Tony’s whole face broke out in a relieved smile and Peter understood what the word ‘beautiful’ meant.

“That’s it,” he said, and relief and joy were palatable in his voice. “**_That’s_** what it’s supposed to feel like.”

Peter, eyes wide, was beginning to realize that there were a lot of words he had never really understood before. _Angelic_, being one of them. _Desire_ being another.

He also felt dangerously like a helium balloon, in danger of floating up to the ceiling and popping, but in that moment he felt Tony’s warm hand against the side of his face and he leaned into the touch with a moan. There was a time eons before when he had questioned whether or not his spiderpowers gave him the ability to bite off a human hand, but now that hand against his face was the only thing keeping him grounded in this open sky of overwhelming sensation. 

In fact he needed more. He put his hand on Tony’s hand and pressed it against him.

He reached for Tony’s other hand but it turned out it was securely wrapped around his own cock, for he was holding the length of it in check as he pushed the few inches inside of Peter. Realizing that, Peter found himself pushing down willingly, taking in centimeter by centimeter, and suddenly Tony’s whispers of ‘_yes’_ and ‘_that’s it_’ and ‘_let it happen_’ made so much sense. Before the exact same words were nothing but a constant irritation; now they felt like shelter. 

Also, good advice. 

For several minute they moved like this, or rather, Peter moved, and Tony watched, stroking his face and encouraging. Peter alternated watching Tony’s beautiful face watch him, and closing his eyes and trying to process these new sensations. Sensations he had no words for. He was feeling goosebumps on his goosebumps.

“How does it feel?” Tony was whispering, and Peter could only nod. But that didn’t seem to satisfy, so Peter found the ability to close his mouth, make it work, and then make a statement.

“It’s good.”

“Talk to me baby,” Tony was saying breathlessly. “….tell me what you like?”

Peter broke into a grin at the absurdity of that statement – surely there were no _words_ invented to describe these sensations? But he did manage to raise his head and look up into the source of this glorious source of oxygen that he was enjoying and said “I like your vaulted ceiling.”

Oblivious to Tony’s confused face he continued to look around, his head swinging to the floor-to-ceiling windows and found himself gaping in amazement at the beautiful view of the starlit sky that took up most of the fourth wall of Tony’s bedroom.

Had that window been there the entire time? WHY on earth had he been looking at the other walls, imagining them collapsing in, when he could have been looking out at the starlit sky??

“That window, it makes the room look so much bigger than it really is,” he was saying like a man in a dream, when suddenly, and much to his surprise, Tony pulled out of him completely.

In a single liquid move he slipped out from under Peter and sat up. With one hand on the back of Peter’s head he looked him deep in the eyes, and declared “You’re claustrophobic!”

Peter gaped. A moment ago Tony had been doing something incredible to his body and suddenly that incredible was gone. If he had any presence of mind he would be outraged, but without any presence of mind the only thing he managed to say was:

“Wha...?!?”

“I asked you what you liked about my cock and you commented on the ceiling. And then the window. Is that why you shut down on me baby, because I was on top of you…..oh baby you’ve got to tell me these things!”

Peter watched him, slack-jawed, wide-eyed. Tony was saying something that was probably important, but the only thing Peter could register was that his entire body had been tingling seconds before, setting nerves on fire that he hadn’t known existed, and now it was gone, and **_why was it gone_**?

“This is why you went silent as soon as I.... Petie …. baby you’ve…..oh baby …..” Now _Tony’s_ jaw was slack, and put his hand on his face, then both hands, as if hiding from some horror.

“Oh God I’ve made a mistake.”

Peter struggled to close his mouth – he must look ridiculous – and fought to find the words that would bring the vibrating back. In vain he shook his head. Ever since Tony had climbed on top of him he had felt fuzzy-headed, dizzy, as if injured or in shock. Every thought was a struggle, every sight and sound muted, as if he were trying to think through a concussion, see through a cloud of concrete dust, hear with ringing ears.

But he **_was_** thinking, and what he was remembering now was that he had heard this lecture before, this lecture about communication and verbalizing and something about ‘desires.’ All these conditions Tony had laid out long before their clothes had come off….and hadn’t Peter agreed to _all of it_? 

“…unless you can talk to me…..unless you can communicate……..kid…….God I care for you so damn much……and I’ve been lusting after you like crazy…”

It was clicking. It was clicking slowly, but it was clicking. Tony had been talking the entire time (then again, Tony WAS a wall of sound.) Those endless words that Tony had never stopped repeating “Are you ok?” “Do you like this?” 

They weren’t rhetorical questions. 

When he asked it, he actually meant it.


	2. Dreams and Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I promised you a happy ending.

“…unless you can talk to me…..unless you can communicate……..kid…….God I care for you so damn much……and I’ve been lusting after you like crazy…”

It was clicking. It was clicking slowly, but it was clicking. Tony had been talking the entire time (then again, Tony WAS a wall of sound.) Those endless words that Tony had never stopped repeating “Are you ok?” “Do you like this?” 

They weren’t rhetorical questions. When he asked it, he actually meant it.

Peter scrubbed his eyes as if he could really clear the dust away. He all but dug his fingers in his ears to get rid of the ringing.

And then Tony said something that he heard **_very_**_ clearly._

“Kid, I don’t think we should be doing this.”

He said something else but Peter was too busy pulling Tony’s hands away from Tony’s face and kissing him right on the mouth. THOSE weren’t the right words, surely. Those weren’t the words that would bring the tingling back.

Tony _tried_ to keep talking (because, of course, he was Tony) but fortunately Peter was far stronger than the older man and soon had him back into the original wonderful position they had shared before. 

“OKsothisiswhatIwant…” Peter blurted out as soon as he came up for air. “**_Shut up_**, do that again, **_don’t_** touch my face unless I ask you to and _stop asking me so many damn questions_!”

Tony tried to _keep_ talking (because, of course, he was Tony) but Peter just stole a page out the Tony Book and concentrated instead on kissing a cheek and a jawline and a neck and whispering the same thing in an ear over and over and over again. (Mainly: “Do it again to me Tony. _Please_ do it to me Tony. _Please_.”)

Tony tried to get up but Peter simply didn’t let him, and the **_smile_** that spread over his face when he realized that Peter was _strong enough to hold him down_ was something Peter saw very clearly, and remembered. 

“I’m not sure about the ethical ramifications of oh Jesus Christ,” Tony moaned as Peter forced Tony’s hand around Tony’s cock and led the man back to where he was supposed to be. Then he had Tony’s mouth on his neck and he grinned from ear to ear because he had won.

But Tony’s cock inside him and Tony’s body touching him quickly became too much, so he pulled away and dropped his head backward, gazing up into Tony’s beautiful (oxygen filled) vaulted ceiling as he let the older man guided him through the process, just as patient as before. It was even better this time, because Peter wasn’t just high on oxygen but enjoying every tiny sensation of finger, then fingers, then more. Goosebumps piled upon goosebumps and every nerve was on fire. When he wanted he could look down into those dark, dark eyes and watch that beautiful face smile, but when it got to be too much he could simply look upward again. 

Tony didn’t speak at all.

Until Peter looked down at the place where their bodies joined together. He was taking it so deeply now, so easily, bottoming out on Tony’s hand effortlessly. He was really very proud of himself – until he looked down and saw that Tony’s hand was in the middle of his shaft and there was plenty left over.

Really, this man was ridiculous.

Peter groaned. 

But Tony only laughed and shook his head. “Never mind about him, just take what you need.” His smile was blissful, and once again Peter realized that the man meant what he said.

Feeling Tony’s hand against his skin kept him tethered to the ground, but sometimes he needed more. It felt good to bend his head to touch Tony’s body, or to kiss a shoulder, or a cheek, or a scar. But bending down changed the angle and that (he realized) changed everything. So he mostly kept sitting upright. When he needed grounding he took Tony’s hand and cupped his face with it – and then he realized…

“Talk to me again.”

Tony’s smiled and moaned, practically laughing. “What do you want me to say?”

“What you said before.”

And then the words were back, making him feel like he had been wrapped up in a secure blanket (instead of piling upon him like brick after brick until he was crushed calling out pointlessly for help.) Yes, the words were repeated over and over again, but now it was less like an annoyance and more like a lullaby. 

And, occasionally, there were questions. 

“Does it feel good?” and Peter smiled because when he nodded, he meant it.

“How does it feel?”

Just moments before he had been trapped under Tony’s body and trying to cope with the invasion of his absurdly large cock and he had sworn that if Tony had asked him that question ONE MORE TIME he was going to throw someone through a window.

But now he could open his eyes and whimper “This feels amazing” and watch Tony’s sincere, relieved smile. 

Two hours before this moment Peter had thought that he would have done ANYTHING to get into Tony Stark’s arms, into Tony Stark’s life. He had made his argument (over and over and over) to Tony who had, reluctantly, agreed. 

Only when they got into bed did Peter realized this was *not* going to be an easy task – lying underneath Tony and waiting for it to be over took a LOT longer than it had with any other guy – and to add insult to injury there was ALL THAT COCK. *Far* too much for any reasonable person to deal with.

Knowing that **_he_** was the one making Tony feel good should have made _some_ temporary unpleasantness worthwhile, if only the unpleasantness hadn’t gone on for SO LONG.

But now – now this was different. This wasn’t hanging on and keeping still (and not clenching down!) for a few minutes and reveling in the compliments later. This was…..this was a whole new world.

Making Tony happy, making Tony proud, that was all Peter lived for – and now all Peter had to do to make Tony happy was say “This feels amazing” when something felt amazing…

And there were so. Many. Somethings. 

(And when it got to be too much all Peter had to do was look up into the vaulted ceiling and things were better again.)

It seemed to go on forever. And thank the god of penises that his previous prayer (oh please just make the man come already!) had not been answered. Tony’s legendary prowess had all been theoretical up until the fucking began, when it became quite the nightmare. But now Peter was beyond grateful. As he rode Tony slowly and steadily, constantly bottoming out on Tony’s hand (pushing Tony’s hand lower and lower) Tony appeared to be in no hurry at all, smiling up at Peter every time the boy blinked in surprise at the newest sensation.

“Yes…yes baby that’s right….. ah? That feels good…. **_yes_**!” Tony moaned and raised his head, pulling closer to his lover when Peter’s breath caught and his whimpering took on a whole new urgency. Peter grabbed Tony’s hand and moved it to his own cock and they began working together and Peter realized that it was actually possible that he might…

But then his body began tightening in anticipation and he heard Tony hiss in surprise. In terror he pulled away from cock, hands and arms and launched himself to the other side of the bed.

“What? What did I do?” Tony started but, to his credit, didn’t reach out to touch Peter at all. For a moment they both lay, panting, in silence. Tears formed in Peter’s eyes, but then he turned to look up at the lovely vaulted ceiling and remembered to breathe.

Tony touched his arm, gently, with the back of his hand. “Ok, I have to ask **_one_** question…..”

“Sorry,” Peter whispered, taking Tony’s hand. It felt like a friendly gesture and made it easier to talk. “I’ve never…..I didn’t think I would…..I haven’t actually……”

Tony drew a little closer and his warm, brown eyes made things a lot easier. “I’m afraid to come,” Peter whispered. “I’m a lot stronger than…..” He sighed in frustration and closed his eyes. 

“When I come, I break things.”

Silence. Peter peeked out from under his eyelids to see Tony’s “_Herm….interesting problem_” face. Peter recognized that face – so much so that when Tony suddenly sat up and climbed off the bed Peter was far more curious than embarrassed. He willingly took Tony’s offered hand and let him lead him out of the room.

They went down a hallway into another bedroom, a guest bedroom Peter guessed. The bed there had an ornate wrought-iron bedframe, the kind he had seen in old people’s houses. The windows were covered by a heavy curtain – Tony let go of Peter’s hand and pulled them open to reveal another large window. Peter relaxed immediately as Tony grinned, took Peter’s hand and led him to the head of the bed. He placed Peter’s hands on the ornate iron swirls, and guided him into position – one leg bent and resting on the bed, the other foot on the floor. When Peter gave him a curious look, Tony shrugged. And grinned.

“I….may have spent a lot of time thinking about this.”

“You thought about….this?” But Tony just turned him toward the wall.

Tony did not enter him again, only pressed his erection up against Peter’s body and stroked him gently, and then firmly, with his hand. His other hand he kept on Peter’s waist, until Peter pulled the arm around him. He could press his entire body against Tony’s as long as his chest was free (and as long as he could occasionally look out the window.) 

“Yes….yes baby…..let it happen,” Tony crooned again and now they seemed like the sweetest words in the world. Peter pressed his face to Tony’s face and let Tony kiss and whisper in his ear. “Have you really never come with another man before?” Peter wasn’t embarrassed anymore, and just grinned at the absurdity of it all. “No? I just……don’t. Tony are you sure?” he asked, looking suddenly in alarm and what was in his hands as he felt the pressure build.

Tony was sure.

He came with Tony chanting his name and urging him on. He came so hard tears formed in his eyes and he temporarily forgot the English language. But Tony remembered. Tony held him close.

“OhgodTonyI’msorry’ he mumbled when he finally opened his eyes. In addition to destroying that side of the bedframe, he had, at some point, put his hand through the wall. But Tony seemed to have no regrets. Tony was holding him, eyes closed, and whispering impossible things.

“Oh Jesus Christ I love you kid. Oh God help me I love you Peter Parker.” Peter wasn’t even sure if he was supposed to have heard it. He reached backward and put his hand on Tony’s head.

“You’re still hard,” he said when he finally pulled out of Tony’s embrace to turn around. 

“Don’t worry about me,” Tony asked, smiling tenderly. “Are you kidding? I’m just psyched to know I’m the only man on the planet to ever give Spider-Man an orgasm.” 

“Wait….come with me,” Peter said, with a sudden inspiration. He took Tony’s hand and led him back to the original bedroom. 

“What can I say?” he improvised when he led them both to the window. “I may have spent a lot of time thinking about this.”

“Aren’t you sore?” Tony asked, even as placed himself in position again. “No, I told you, nothing hurts. No…come closer.”

The cold of the window pressing against his chest made Tony’s body heat pressing against his back easier to bear. The man was very close to him but being vertical (with the wide-open NYC skyline in front of him) made it possible, and even pleasant. Soon he wasn’t even looking at the stars, but at the reflection of Tony’s face in the window. Knowing that he was the one making Tony feel that way was a beautiful thing.

Still, he had to hide a grin. He was grinning to himself because he had lied.

This was not, at all, the way he had pictured making love together.

He had thought about it – oh yes, he had thought about it a lot. 

But when he pictured them making love together, they were flying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You've come this far, why not leave a comment?
> 
> A simple <3 or : ) will suffice.


	3. Iron Man and the Avengers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Think about it.
> 
> Peter has been a fan of the Avengers FOR EVER.
> 
> Of COURSE he wanted to know who had hooked up.

To say Peter had spent some _time_ finding out what Tony Stark would be like in bed, well…

…that would be like comparing the Avengers breaking up to the breaking up of the Beatles.

Peter had gone about researching Tony Stark’s sex life the way he had gone about researching sex. (Well, to be fair, he spent a lot of time researching the latter by having actual sex with other boys, whereas he researched the former by asking questions. Let’s just say Peter researched each with a great deal of enthusiasm.)

Natasha was, by far, the best source of information. 

Which is how Peter learned that Tony giggled during sex.

Now he lay on his back looking up at Tony’s magnificent ceiling, remembering that particular piece of information and comparing it to the actual event. Tony was lying beside him on the bed. Sometimes moving his hand to touch Peter’s hand, sometimes stroking a shoulder. They spoke quietly about many random things. They had been talking for almost an hour. It was very calm and peaceful (also the most amount of time Peter had spent naked with another man, and he was enjoying it.)

They talked science because they always talked science, but now they were talking about the science of bodies. Tony had answered _multiple_ questions that night, questions about sex and porn and the odd things a person could learn on A03 when Peter blurted out the question. 

Tony gave him a strange look. 

“Remember how I said I had spent a lot of time researching sex? Well I….might have spent a lot of time….researching you.”

Tony looked perturbed. 

“Giggling…..Kid….that was a long time ago. I was a different person back then – I mean I literally had an internal organ removed inbetween….”

“Was this, like, the ‘all 12 cover models of Maxim’ days?” Peter asked gently, referring to an earlier topic of conversation.

Tony groaned and covered his face. “Kid, that was a rumor. That I planted. I’m not saying I didn’t _try_, I got about 3 models in, I mean I was literally **_that guy_**. You know…I don’t know, do you still have over-achievers in high school? I was the overachiever of Straight White Guy. Emphasis on Straight. 

“I can’t – I can’t even explain to you what it was like. My whole life was pretending – looking good for the cameras and posing for the covers of magazines. Magazines with articles I never read, I just wanted to know I looked good on the cover. I mean I knew about the weapons we were making; I knew that well. But the rest – I pretended I didn’t care about the business because I was too busy caring about cars and girls and – but shit, I didn’t care about anything. And that was frightening. Terrifying. And those girls I _did_ take home…

“Hey….what’s that word you have for the art or the science project or the podcast you make in high school that you have to live with after, the ones that make you cringe?”

“Cringy?”

“Yeah, that. That’s a good word. I banged some beautiful women in my time, Peter, and I can’t begin to tell you how cringy it was. I ran from them, I **_hid_** from them. Literally, I locked myself in other rooms and had employees send them home so I didn’t have to talk to them afterward. So, cringy? Giggling was the _least_ cringy thing I did back then. Back before.”

“Before Iron Man?”

“No, Iron Man happened in a cave in the Middle East. I would say, back before Obie.”

“Obie….I don’t remember this part.”

“Obadiah was my backup. I was happy to look good for the camera, to be the face that sold the magazine cover, as long as Obie actually ran things. I could look intelligent and actually be a complete screwup. He was like a surrogate father, one that really didn’t care if I fucked everything up. I mean I don’t think he would have even cared if I took men to bed – hell he probably knew – but he was my rock. He was my hiding place. And then he tried to kill me.”

Tony spoke for a while as Peter tried to picture it, tried to picture a man that wasn’t, yet, the man that was lying beside him. 

“And that was a slap in the face because, I mean literally dying was a slap in the face too but, you have to understand I didn’t care about _anything_. I mean taking things apart was good, and inventing things was good, but after you take something apart, it’s done. And after you invent something, it’s done. There’s nothing on the _other side_ of that. And then one day I woke up and I really did care about something – I wanted to stop making weapons. I thought I had done it, I had finally found something I cared about. I thought, this is it! This is what grownups do! And my surrogate father, naturally, had to eliminate me. I’m not saying it didn’t break my heart when he tried to murder me, it did. But you can’t fault his logic.

“Maybe you’re right, maybe I did mean ‘Before Iron Man.’ Because the Iron Man suits – those were the first things I built that I really cared about.

“And then there was Pepper,” he was saying (but Peter had heard this part before.) “And I wanted to be with her, but I had to be an actual human being for her, and that was a _huge_ challenge. More complicated than any suit I ever tried to design. It took up that 90% of my brain I wasn’t using - she made me a better person, I mean you could say she made me a man. She made me grow up. 

“But, of course, that is the job for a mother, not a wife. So when I was grown, and her job was done, we agreed she deserved something better. So we moved on.”

“Ok, so you were a giggler in the ‘all 12 cover models of Maxim’ days” days, but it wasn’t just with women, you did it with men too….”

“Says who?”

“Um……Bruce?” Peter suggested guiltily, and winced under Tony’s irritated glance.

“What can I say? I’ve been researching this for a long time.”

“Bruce….narced on me? We’ll that’s disappointing. And inaccurate – I don’t know what he’s talking about.”

“I believe his exact words were ‘Don’t ask me kid, we were mostly punch-drunk. We had been working 22 hours non-stop, and there was a bed in his lab and he said it would help us sleep. Only he didn’t sleep afterward.’”

Tony seemed to find that amusing. “This is all true. But _he_ got to sleep, so I saw that as a win. And I most certainly wasn’t giggling with him. I have a lot of respect for Bruce. We had a real connection. But …he sort of had this thing with Nat and then he ghosted _both_ of us so that was the end of that. But if you need proof ask Rhodey…”

Peter’s eyes opened wide and he sat up suddenly.

“Wait….War Machine?!?” 

Tony looked up at Peter, confused. “I thought that was common knowledge.”

“Wait….Tony…..how many Avengers have you hooked up with?”

“Excuse me? Rhodey and I go back – way back. And for the record _we_ did not join up with the Avengers, _they_ joined up with _us_. What are you….what?” 

Peter was sitting up now, looking more than a little alarmed. It was ridiculous, of course, knowing that the number in reality was one number higher than the one in his head, but something had occurred to him very suddenly. Something he didn’t like.

“Tony, _how many Avengers have you hooked up with_?”

He didn’t look irritated now. He looked angry. Slowly he held up a finger.

One.

“That’s not what you just told me.”

“That’s exactly what I just told you. I hooked up with Bruce. Rhodey and I were together long before the Avengers were even heard of – don’t insult us by calling _us_ ‘And Avenger Hookup.’ And what the fuck does it matter to you what happened before you were born? And four? What is four?” he said angrily, looking at Peter’s fingers.

“The Hulk. War Machine. And Black Widow,” Peter counted off.

“Nat?!” Tony sat up sputtering. “Are you seri – are you kidding me with this? Where the _fuck_ did you get that idea?”

“If you didn’t hook up then why does she know so much about what you’re like in bed?”

“And it was her job to know – she was sent by SHIELD to infiltrate Stark Industries and getting me into bed was one of her missions. Which she failed, the way.” Tony lay his back down to the bed with a angry smirk. “And she’s not much of a super-spy if she really believed the ‘all 12 cover models of Maxim’ story. That means I got the best of her twice. I’m going to remind her of that next time I…”

He stopped and looked up at Peter, irritated again. He covered well.

“You thought I hooked up with Nat _and_ Bruce? Well that would be quite an accomplishment and I would have bragged about it had I pulled it off. But that’s just 3. Who’s number 4?”

“Me,” Peter said in a quiet voice.

Tony looked up at him as if he had been punched.

“Kid…”

He was laying on his back, looking up into the ceiling as if he had never seen it before. Peter was sitting, naked, beside him but only at this moment did he feel vulnerable. Tony’s face was contorting so much Peter looked down at his body in alarm to see if he was hurt somewhere. When he spoke he sounded like a man with no air.

“This….isn’t a hookup, Kid. Christ I thought you knew that. I thought…”

His voice broke and he covered his face with one hand.

“I thought I made that clear.”

“Oh God Tony…”

Peter reached down and grabbed Tony so suddenly the man fought him off instinctively. Peter’s reflexes were faster, of course, and he shrugged off Tony’s hands as if he were a child, pulling him into an embrace, putting his face to Tony’s scared chest and holding them in that position. Tony found himself flailing, then finding purchase, then awkwardly stroking Peter’s hair.

“Tony I didn’t please don’t be mad please _don’t_ be mad I didn’t….I _don’t_ have…I _didn’t_ make any plans for….**_I don’t know what comes next!”_**

“Shhhhh….baby it’s ok…..” Tony found himself saying, absurdly trying to comfort the man in his arms that had, just seconds before, make his heart skip a beat. 

“I had plans up until this moment, they were _really_ good plans….” he said, tears in his eyes. But there was no point in explaining. His 6-month plan to get him right up to this moment. The notebook full of lists in secret codes (they were too embarrassing to write down in a normal alphabet.) The timelines. The checklist. The fact that Peter had successfully achieved everything he had meticulously planned. Up until this moment. And now, he had no idea what to do next.

“That’s OK kid, I never have plans,” Tony lied. Up until that night, he had planned to keep telling Peter “No” until he got discouraged and gave up. 

“But I only had plans up until _now_,” Peter whispered, pulling away. “Up until this moment.”

He sat up and looked Tony in the face.

Then he looked around.

He was sitting, naked, on the man’s ridiculously large bed in his never-seen-before-bedroom. He had been naked with the man for hours. In that time they had spoken with each other for hours, he had asked questions he never thought he’d have answers for, admitted to things he was sure he would never say out loud. 

He knew, somehow, the moment would be perfect.

He didn’t know the moment would be _this_ perfect.

“I never dreamed you’d ask me to stay,” he finally said, wiping away the tears.

“That’s OK. Everything’s going to be OK,” Tony said, pulling him close. It was the right thing to say. Tony had no idea if it was true or not.

“I know,” Peter said, sinking into the man’s embrace. He didn’t have the words to explain anything else.

How terrifying it was to be out of plans, to come to the end of the checklist, to be completely clueless about what came next. It was like standing at the very edge of a precipice, looking over the edge.

And he wasn’t afraid.

Because Tony was there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've read this chapter, leave me a comment to let me know.
> 
> Because you KNOW you can't leave kudos again.....


	4. Truth Or Dare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Did you really spend time thinking about making love to me in that other room? With the old fashioned bed?” he whispered.
> 
> Tony’s eyes closed even as his eyebrows went up.
> 
> “Um…maybe.”
> 
> Peter collapsed into giggles. “Truth for Truth – you suck at this game you made up Tony.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to von_gelmini, the ballet lover.

“Let’s play a game,” Tony said, taking the empty glass out of Peter’s hand and placing it on the floor alongside his own.

Laying naked on the bed and confessing innermost feelings had devolved into sharing a bottle or two of wine (while still lying naked on the bed and still sharing innermost feelings) and if Tony didn’t sit up soon he would fall asleep. It would be dawn, soon. They had stayed up all night.

“Up,” he said, sitting cross-legged on the bed, motioning Peter into his lap, then immediately wondered if that would be too much contact for the boy. Peter willingly climbed up into Tony’ s lap and wrapped Tony’s arms around his waist – that was promising – but didn’t bring their chests together and let his own arms hang down by his sides.

They talked for a little bit about it, they had been talking about sex all night, talked about touch and what constituted ‘too much’ and when. Peter described the position they were in right now like a warm, welcoming pool. “A nice place to submerge, as long as you knew you could come up for air.”

Tony glanced up into his vaulted ceiling. 

“Oh, there’s so much air up there,” Peter grinned. He was pleasantly tipsy, and Tony spent some time watching his face before getting to the point.

“Truth or Dare.”

“What?! Oh God no,” Peter said, catching his breath suddenly, causing Tony to loosen his arms. 

“No don’t let go I just ….I just….really suck at that game. I _lost_ that game. Badly.”

“How could you…nevermind. Ok, fine. Truth for Truth.”

“…..how do you play that?”

“I’ll ask you one question and you have to….and if you choose to tell the truth, then you can ask me one question, any question, and I’ll have to tell the truth.”

“Did you make this game up just now?”

“Just…say yes. You're playing."

“What if I don’t want to answer the question?”

“Then you pass – but you don’t get to ask me anything.”

“What if I can’t think of anything to ask you?” Peter queried, but he was really stalling. He was really enjoying being held this way, enjoyed the way Tony’s arms went all the way around him. He liked them so much he realized he wasn’t going to make Tony stop – he could just look up to the ceiling when he needed a break. This was the longest he had ever been nude with another man, and he was enjoying it immensely, and figured he could make it last as long as Tony didn’t ask scary questions.

“You’ll think of something. Come on – say yes.”

“Ok … as long as you’re not mad at me for asking how many Avengers you hooked up with.”

“Kid you’re killing me…I mean how many Avengers have _you_ hooked up with?”

“Oh please.”

“I dunno Kid, you’ve been hanging out with Bruce a lot….”

“Because I was picking his brain about _you_.”

“Ok, so, question, and you have to tell me the….what are you doing?”

Peter had wrapped his arms around Tony’s head and was now leaning back, his head arched, his head dropped so far back was no longer smiling at the ceiling, he was smiling at the opposite wall. Tony kept his hands on the small of Peter's back and for a moment they moved like ballet dancers.

“Coming up for air,” Peter said, taking a deep breath, then sat back up. “No, don’t let go,” he said, pulling Tony’s arms all the way around him again (but he dropped his own arms. Two set of arms was a little too much – one set was perfect.) “I like this.” He took one more moment to enjoy this peaceful feeling before Tony asked his question, then he looked back down. He took a deep breath and held it.

“Ok, go.”

“Did you really….” Tony said, speaking gently, looking up into Peter’s face. 

“….tell me the _truth_. Did you really sleep with those boys that you told me about?”

Peter exhaled and laughed in surprise.

“Um…yeah. _Duh_. Tony….”

Peter scoffed at Tony’s surprised look.

“Excuse me…Tony…do you really think I would have propositioned you if I was a _virgin_? You legendarily huge. _Everyone_ had a story about how surprised they were to find out you weren’t overcompensating for anything.” Peter grinned at Tony’s reaction and shrugged. “What? I told you, I studied for this.”

“So….that number you gave me was accurate? You had sexy times with all those boys … and you never came … and you didn’t enjoy it at all?”

Peter’s eyes narrowed in confusion. “I never said that.”

“Well….I assumed…..”

“Well you were wrong,” Peter said, all grins. “Turns out we are both bad at assumptions and maybe we both should stop.”

“But…your claustrophobia made it difficult to….”

“Yeah, it was weird,” Peter said, leaning backward again, arching back, gazing into the ceiling again, reveling in the feeling of Tony’s hands when they moved to the small of his back, feeling for all the world like the ballet dancers he had dreamed of as a child. It still took effort to talk about it, but it was _so_ much easier now to talk about the claustrophobia now that he had a _word_ for it. Now that Tony knew.

“I mean it was _years_ ago….the building collapsing on me I mean….I hardly ever dream about it anymore…and I never had any problem with…small rooms or elevators or little classrooms or my tiny bedroom or anything. I didn’t like crowded buses, I had to avoid all of those, but no one likes crowded buses, right?”

“You have no problem with airplanes – you enjoyed _my_ airplane. 

“Well, yeah, but people aren’t really touching you on your airplane.”

“You were comfortable enough to do a dance….”

“That wasn’t a _dance_, Tony.”

“Sorry Kid, if you do a spin on a stripper pole, it’s officially a dance….”

“**_I had no idea it was a stripper pole Tony_**?! And who keeps a _stripper pole_ on their airplane?”

Peter was blushing again and hid his face in Tony’s neck while Tony described that particular trip and how …..tight…..his pants had gotten the day Peter had done an impromptu spin while on the way from the front to the back of the plane. That meant that Peter’s arms were around Tony’s neck even though Tony’s arms were also around his back…

…and suddenly it wasn’t too much touch. It wasn’t too much at all.

“And then there are crowded subways….” Peter said, trying to change the subject. “You aren’t happy but at least everyone else is unhappy too,” he said, nuzzling into Tony’s neck. “..and they want to get away from you and you want to get away from them, and you know how many seconds it is to the next station AND you can hold your breath that long everything is fluid.

“So I never thought about it. No matter how many people press in around you in NYC you can always count on flying above them at some point during the day. 

“And then I started having sex and it was like ‘**_WOW_**_ stop _touching_ me._’”

“And yet that was a large number … that you told me…” Tony said gently. He was certainly not one to judge another person of number of sexual experiences, but the idea that Peter had put up with that much unpleasant sex was painful to think about. Even now the boy was gazing up at the ceiling to cope with Tony holding him in his arms. The idea that he suppressed his feelings with _that_ many boys was just too much…Tony was still hoping the boy would admit to fudging the numbers. “I mean, not a lot for a boy your age but ….for a boy that …found some hidden PTSD landmine laying in wait in his brain…”

“Ok but…I didn’t say that was the number of that a guy got on top of….excuse me? 

"Do we need to have the talk Tony? There are a lot of nice things two guys can do to each other, other than **_that_**.” Peter rolled his head back to face Tony long enough to give Tony a wicked grin.

“Turns out, I’m really _good_ at oral.”

Tony couldn’t help but grin up at that grin.

He also couldn’t help but ask “But do you _like_ it?”

Peter didn’t nod yes or no – his head just tilted from side to side.

“Honestly, it got kind of boring. It’s just so _easy_…you’re right…college guys _do_ come really fast.”

Another wicked grin. Another one they shared.

“But doing it _to_ another guy, that’s _interesting…” _and Tony’s face split into a huge grin when he recognized Peter’s ‘that’s interesting’ face. He had seen it a hundred times in the lab._ “…_ because it’s _really_ hard. I mean…”

Peter put his hands in front of Tony’s face to illustrate. “You have to be really gentle because the human body is really fragile, I mean you could seriously mortally injure this person (and he’s just begging you to do it harder) and it’s…a challenge.”

He wrapped his arms around Tony’s neck again. “And it’s so much better vertical than horizontal. A million times better. Because you can change the angles.”

Tony burst into laughter. “It’s not _math_ Kid, listen to you.”

Peter didn’t seem to mind. He grinned as he argued “_It’s **all** math_! It’s all _angles_! Hello? Isn’t it obvious? Like you can change angles a hundred different ways when you’re standing up - it’s just really limited when you’re on a bed. **_Why_** is it called ‘going to **bed** together’ that’s just stupid because you don’t need the bed at all!”

“But sometimes guys wanted it on a bed.”

“Well, I can do it on a bed,” Peter conceded.

“And sometimes guys wanted to get on top of _you_ on a bed.”

“Well…yeah…I’m polite. I’m good at waiting until things are over. It wasn’t all _that_ hard. I mean it’s like holding your breath – I can do that for more than five minutes now by the way – I mean it doesn’t feel good while you’re doing it but you can be really proud of yourself when you see how long you’ve done it. Right? Yes……**_YES_**,” Peter argued with Tony’s shaking head.

“No….no…..**_stop_**_ saying YES_,” Tony insisted, trying to sound stern, trying not to smile. His point was important, he was sure, and he had to kiss Peter’s mouth to stop the arguing.

“No, sex is _not_ about enduring, sex is about feeling like the top of your head is about to come off. Or at least making the other guy feel that way.”

“And when you _stay still_ long enough the other guy _does_ feel that way. And then he gets off you and says lots of sweet things about you afterwards and it’s nice…..excuse me? Did you or did you not sit in that room right down the hall and tell me ‘I don’t need to come I’m just psyched to know I’m the only man on the planet to ever give Spider-Man an orgasm.” 

“No, sorry, that must have been some other guy. I am not nearly that selfless.”

“Liar,” Peter said, which made Tony’s eyebrows go up in surprise, which made Peter giggle.

“I had to break up with this one kid…which was really awkward because I didn’t know we were dating. Apparently I’m _really_ good at sex, at least according to him.”

“Not worrying about coming – yeah – I guess that does make you good at sex …..” Peter smiled. He had _never_ managed to get tipsy before – he had consumed alcohol before but it didn’t seem to have any effect. He never felt out of control.

But here, with Tony, in Tony’s bed, in Tony’s arms, he felt the need for control fall away like displaced slabs of concrete. His shoulders felt completely relaxed, his head completely clear. He would have blamed this buzz on an excess of oxygen, or just overwhelming relief. Tony knew about his problem – it had a name, and it had a solution. 

“But you never came with him?”

Peter rolled his head back around to look at him - and frowned.

“With who?”

“Your boy you had to break up with….did you ever come with him at all?”

“Two guys can lay on the floor together side by side while they both take care of themselves – or stand back to back, or sit back to back, or just promise they’ll do it just as soon as Tom leaves the room and then I send him the vid of it to his cell…ok I just answered a LOT of questions so I think it’s my turn now.”

“No I’m pretty sure you’re going to have to explain to me ‘two guys lying on the floor together side by side while they….’”

“Your turn. Truth for Truth.”

“Pretty sure you’re going to have to demonstrate that one….”

“_Your turn_….” Peter growled, finally squishing Tony’s face together to prevent him from asking questions about videos on cell phones, a move that naturally made them both grin.

“Ok….what?” Tony said through a squished face.

Peter looked back up into the ceiling, trying to think of something profound. Then he had a sudden inspiration. 

He looked down at Tony suddenly with a wide eyes.

“Did you _really_ spend time thinking about making love to me in that other room? With the old fashioned bed?” he whispered.

Tony’s eyes closed even as his eyebrows went up.

“Um…maybe.”

Peter collapsed into giggles. “Truth for Truth – you suck at this game you made up Tony.”

Tony kissed the giggling mouth, a legitimate way to get out of a question. It was really time to bathe and negotiate sleeping positions, and he was just about to suggest it when his eyes suddenly flew open wide.

“What?” Peter questioned as the man pulled away to look at him in amazement.

“So…that number…that number that you gave me….that number of boys …. that wasn’t the number of boys who fucked you…..”

“**To_ny_** you said ‘Sexytimes!’ I find your limited definition of ‘sexytimes’ disturbing!” 

“Waitwaitwait ok but ….._how many boys did you let fuck you_ and how many of those boys did you fuck?”

Peter’s eyes went up as he did the math. “Um….about half and half?”

“So you’re saying …..you wanted experience before getting me into bed. And you went out and got that experience. And before tonight you topped **how** many guys?” and Peter, obviously annoyed, let go of Tony’s neck to start counting on his fingers.

Tony didn’t let him finish. He caught those lovely fingers in one hand and kissed that hand, first the fingers, then the knuckles, then the hand itself.

“Babyboy…..oh. Baby. Boy. I’m offended. 

"Offended, I tell you.

“Why didn’t you offer to do that to me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a 2-chapter piece that turned out to have more than 1 coda.
> 
> I have enjoyed the ride. I hope you have too. Thank you to von_gelmini for the soundingboard moments and the encouragement. (And for the story of the Peter and the stripper-pole on the airplane. Someday you should write that story.)
> 
> PLEASE let me know if you read until the end!
> 
> IF A03 WONT LET YOU LEAVE KUDOS you could always comment!
> 
> Commenting is SO easy - just cut and paste your favorite line!

**Author's Note:**

> This is a finished work. I will post a chapter a week. Bookmark to let me know you're interested!
> 
> You've come this far - why not leave a comment?


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